Neither more nor less
by ArsinoeB
Summary: Normal people just don't have kids like Damian. (Or the one where Damian is temporarily transported to the imagined reality of Batman #33)


Bruce can't shake the feeling that he is being watched.

It's a peculiar feeling, especially at home, for he knows the Wayne Manor from top to bottom. He would think that he is just being paranoid, especially as Julie and the kids haven't noticed anything, but he has caught Alfred looking around suspiciously a couple of times, too, so he knows he is not alone. It's in times like these that he remembers that his butler is so much more than meets the eye.

He thinks that he sees something yellow from the corner of his eyes, when playing video games with Thomas and Walter, and he could swear he hears a small snuffle when reading Laura her bedtime story in the evening, but when he turns around there is nothing there.

And although he keeps looking suspiciously around, it is still startling when he sees a shadow move in the grand hall in the next morning. Instinct makes him look up, and Bruce can't help a surprised yelp, which makes the dark, small shadow hanging from the chandelier move.

"Took you long enough, Wayne," says a child's voice, and the owner hops down gracefully from the ceiling. It is an odd sight that meets Bruce under the chandelier; a young boy around the age of Laura, dressed up as some reject from the Teen Titans, with face covered by hood, green domino mask and an angry grimace.

"I have observed you for one day now, and disappointingly both you and Pennyworth have failed to catch or even detect me," the boy accuses. "But at least you noticed that something was amiss, unlike those other imbeciles inhabiting this manor."

It's bizarre situation, but no-one has ever accused Bruce of not being pro-active. "Who are you?" he demands, and is happy to see Alfred come into the hall, and also startle for a nanosecond.

"I'm Robin," the child says. "Son of—son of Batman?" he finishes hopefully.

Bruce has no idea what the child is talking about, and neither it seems has Alfred.

* * *

"You have always been a soft touch when it comes to children, Master Bruce," Alfred tuts later as they whisper in the library, Robin sitting in the farthest corner near the fireplace.

"He's a ten year old child all alone in a strange place and clearly in shock based on that ludicrous story of accidently traveling to an alternate universe," Bruce defends. They had had a hard time getting even that out of the child, not to mention getting him to remove the mask of that absurd superhero set up.

"And don't forget his superpower, those soulful, pleading eyes," Alfred mutters cynically, but Bruce has seen him feed Robin three of his special oatmeal cookies, so he awards Alfred's disapproval all the credence it deserves.

"Would you like to stay here for a while until we figure out what to do with you, Robin?" Bruce asks gently.

Robin scowls at him. "I'll be staying here whether you want me or not, so that my father can find me. And outside of uniform my name is Damian."

And that it seems is _that_.

Damian and the other children together is an utter disaster.

"So why the dress up, kiddo? Aiming for a place in Teeny Titans?" asks Walter, the second oldest son of Bruce, clearly amused.

"This is my Robin uniform, and I have already assisted both _Teen_ Titans and Justice League successfully," Damian responds utterly serious, assessing Bruce's children with critical eyes.

Walter and Thomas share a mystified look with each other.

"Okay... So any good at fighting?" Thomas asks with fake cheerfulness.

"Certainly better than you incompetent failures," Damian says crossing his arms.

Thomas laughs. "I've studied martial arts since I was five and so has Walter, and we are both at the very top on state level competitions and massively heavier than you, kiddo!"

Damien emits a noise of contempt at 'competition' and covers his fist with the other hand. "Both. Of. You. _Together_."

"Boys, go easy on him," Bruce warns, as it turns out, the completely wrong side of the battle that is over before it even starts.

"Rematch," rasps Thomas as he picks himself up and goes after Damian with all his might.

"I've learnt martial arts from my father and the best teachers on Earth before I could walk, you idiots," Damian sneers at Thomas and Walter, lying prone by his feet. "Be grateful that I never intended to _actually hurt you_."

* * *

"Are you one those stupid people who think that girls shouldn't build robots?" Laura challenges after Damian has disdainfully watched her work for five minutes on a complex robot intended for automatic knitting. She has always been the most intelligent of Bruce's children.

"No, but I have never been one of those stupid people who try to build robots with short circuits, either," Damian says contemptuously and fixes the part that Laura has had problems for the past month to her ire.

* * *

"Would you like to try too, dear?" Julie asks and points with her brush to the empty canvas in the corner of the drawing room. She is finishing a family portrait of the children.

"Try? I can paint better than you already," Damian says and proves it by pointing out all the mistakes that Julie has made with the shading. She doesn't speak to Bruce for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

"Ah, Master Damian," says Alfred, "would you like some cookies?"

"Yes, please. And also tea, Pennyworth," Damian says, scowl lessening slightly, "but not that pedestrian Earl Gray that everyone else poisons their taste buds with."

He ends up telling Alfred over tea all about his pets which also include a cow, a turkey and something described as a 'giant man-bat'. And Bruce thought that Thomas feeding that damned owl for one summer was over the top.

* * *

"What do you like to do?" Damian asks Bruce as they stand together outside the Manor looking towards the silhouette of Gotham in setting sun, everyone else having (wisely) deserted them.

It is a surprising question that shocks Bruce enough to answer it truthfully. "I like to make Gotham and the world a better place to live in. Either by the inventions of Wayne Enterprise or by philanthropy."

Damian turns to look at him in amazement, and it is the first time he looks as young as he is. In a probably rare fit of vulnerability he takes Bruce's offered hand and looks up to him. "That's what my father has ever wanted to do, too."

* * *

"When I died, _my_ father went all alone to Apokolips and fought Darkseid to get me back," Damian says matter-of-factly when they are watching the evening news concerning the analyisis of the past invasion attempt, and the scariest part is that Bruce actually starts to believe him.

It's pretty clear that the child worships his father, who—if Bruce were to believe everything that Damian tells— would either be a demi-god or the ultimate wish fulfillment. Bruce would rather lean towards the wish fulfillment, but there are some things that prevent him, like Damian himself.

Normal people just don't have kids like Damian.

"If I'd been him, I'd have fought to ensure that no-one would bring him back," Walter mutters to Thomas. Damian is too well trained to show any emotion on his face, but there is a very brief flash on his eyes that betrays him. "My father _will_ come after me!" Damian grits, getting angrier.

"Of course I will."

It's completely new voice, low and grim, a terrifying form suddenly materializing from the shadows with horns and unnatural white eyes.

"FATHER!" Damian screams and catapults himself towards the beast—and really, did Bruce expect any less from the mythical demi-god father of their resident demon?

Laura is hiding behind Bruce while Thomas and Walter are shielding Julie. Albert has already a shotgun squarely pointing to the head of the intruder, prepared as always.

But the beast does nothing else than kneel down to hug his son, and under a better lighting, it becomes apparent that it is not a demon, but simply a man—a man dressed in a gray battle suit with a cowl obscuring most of the face. When he stands up, he is still has an intimidating presence, but he is only as tall as Bruce and only little bit more muscular. If it came to it, maybe Bruce and the boys—.

"No, you wouldn't," says Batman keeping Damian close by a hand on his shoulder. "Alfred, on the other hand is an excellent shot."

There is something oddly familiar about Batman, but Bruce still wouldn't lower the shotgun as Alfred does at this statement.

"Master Bruce!?" Alfred utters completely flabbergasted—for Alfred anyway.

"Yes," Batman says before Bruce has any time to respond and lowers his cowl. There are several shrieks, and it takes a couple of seconds for Bruce to realize what he is looking at because he usually sees his face from a mirror. It is the most bizarre thing that has happened to Bruce, and he once had a hallucination of a flying man dressed in red cape trying to talk to him.

* * *

"Thank you for looking after Damian," Batman says later after explanations when the two of them have retreated to Bruce's private study.

"My pleasure," says Bruce, and he can see that his other self sees right through his half-lie.

"He can be handful," Batman says, "but underneath he is a good kid."

Bruce nods, although in his opinion 'handful' is quite an understatement. He has seen enough troubled kids with scars from the past to know that their exterior does not often match with their interior, but he has more important issues to discuss than Damian Wayne.

"Is it true, then, that you have fought along with the Justice League several times?"

"Yes," says Batman. He hesitates for a second. "You have a loving family and according to Damian your charity work and patronage is admirable... Are you happy?"

"Yes," Bruce says, but it seems that Batman can read him even better than Alfred. He wonders how much Batman can deduce of his secrets by the lines on his face and hands.

They look at each other for a while in silence, the two men from different ends of the spectrum, but still essentially the same.

After a while, Batman stands up and says, "Thank you for your hospitality. We will be leaving now. Damian, with me," and Bruce is surprised that he even is surprised to see Damian come out of the shadows near the window.

"You should pay more attention to your surroundings, Bruce," Batman admonishes gently.

"That's what I have been saying the whole time, Father, and the other imbeciles are even less competent than _Drake_ ," sneers Damian.

"Those imbeciles are technically your half-siblings, Damian," Batman says stepping towards the middle of the room, but Damian does not follow him.

"Would you prefer, like _him_ , that I were a more normal child?" Damian tries to sneer, but it comes out probably more heartfelt than he intends.

Batman turns around and takes Damian's face on his hand.

"Damian, for your own sake, I wish you'd have had a normal childhood, but I wouldn't change you for anything. You are _my_ son, and I'm proud of you and what you are capable of," Batman says. "Would you prefer me to have more time for you and be more open with my regard?"

Damian looks away and back to his father. "If you were, you wouldn't be who you are. And you _know_ that I would always rather go to patrol with you than... than _fishing_."

"Exactly," Batman says and ruffles Damian's hair. And as he is still breathing two seconds after, Bruce knows that Batman is indeed as hardcore as advertised.

When Damian has said goodbyes and been hugged by Alfred, and they have put their masks on, they turn to look at the family one more. Batman inclines his head, Damian smirks, and in a blink of an eye they are gone.

"I still can't believe that technically he was _your son_ ," Julie marvels on the bed that night before going to sleep. "He had such an unpleasant personality, but then again not all children can be as wonderful as ours."

Bruce murmurs his agreement because sharing martial bed for over fifteen years has taught him some things, but he feels oddly insulted, nonetheless. Certainly his other self had loved Damian, faults and all, and the child had loved his father just as fiercely back. Damian hadn't been a normal child, but then again he had never apparently lived a normal life, either.

Bruce is bit taken aback how empty and mundane his life suddenly appears in comparison.

* * *

Next morning, when Bruce looks down on his desk, there is a note. It has a phone number and a message _For more productive adventures._

Bruce can hardly wait.


End file.
